


How The Light Gets Brighter

by InfaWrit10



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Deceit’s mentioned briefly, Gen, Repeated mentions of an anxiety attack, Romance if you squint but it doesn’t have to be there if you don’t want, Thomas is also mentioned briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfaWrit10/pseuds/InfaWrit10
Summary: In the fallout of a panic attack, Virgil sits in his room, sifting through his feelings on the matter.  Virgil looks to everything to improve his mood, but nothing he does for himself works.However, Virgil’s friends soothing him in their own little ways seems to do the trick.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Platonic LAMP
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	How The Light Gets Brighter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaleNoFace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleNoFace/gifts).



> Hello!
> 
> I’m back again with another piece for this charming little web series! Man, I can’t stop writing with these guys.
> 
> This is a gift for my friend, Pale, who was looking for a Sanders Sides fic. They gave me the prompt “getting over an anxiety attack,” and so I made this for them! I hope you like it, Pale.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful friend Liv who beta-d for me. Love you!

Anxiety laid on the bed in his room, numbly staring at the ceiling.

He had gently come down from the terrifying state of mania, despite all the evidence from an hour ago that told him he’d never be okay again.

At least he could breathe. That was nice, being able to do that again.

He’d been here for a few hours, just… staring. He’d tried to listen to music to get himself back in the swing of things, but he’d felt like he’d lost any sort of purpose. No matter what he did, nothing he picked up seemed to be it. He’d felt that way before, and he knew the only way to usurp it was to simply lay down, roll over, and play dead for a while.

He was tired, but not a fixable kind of tired. It wasn’t fixable with a nap, anyway. He knew the cycle; Logan had actually made a stylized flowchart for him when they were both at a loss for something to do on a Sunday. “Panic,” then “Silence/Processing.” The first branching off of the flowchart detailed what happened next: “Perform an Activity.” If he did not feel better after “Performing an Activity,” then the flowchart branched off again: “Meditative Rest.” There was another branch after that: “Hydrate/General Self-Care,” and if that didn’t work, “Attempt Activity Again/Attempt Different Activity.” It then listed a few under an asterisk off to the side.

*Remind Thomas of his own self-care

Talk with another side

Listen to music

Sleep

Cry (therapeutically)(Logan had felt the need to clarify)

Annoy Princey (Virgil made Logan add this one—despite the nerd’s protests that it wasn't constructive—in his impeccable handwriting. Later, Virgil drew a tiny crown that hung off the P.)

That flowchart hanging on his wall was probably the only reason he ever remembered to drink water.

Whatever way Virgil got there, the flowchart always ended with “Feel Better.”

Logan was smart like that.

When Virgil felt lonely, it happened one of two ways: it came in with a bang and left after an hour of distraction, or it seeped in, slow as settling sediment, and didn’t leave until he sat with someone. He didn’t really need to talk to them; just feeling them next to him was good enough, for the most part.

He was starting to sense the familiarity of being a horizontal hourglass, the sediment settling into the back of himself and weighing him down into his bed. The front of his body felt so light that he felt a little sick.

He needed a human. No talking necessary; he just needed the presence of another human—metaphysical like himself, or not, he didn’t care.

Somehow, on cue, a knock came from the other side of his door.

Without thinking about it, Anxiety called them in. Only one of the good guys would knock. His guess was Logan; he was the most proper out of all the sides.

He was surprised to see Patton poke his head in.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said with an added level of soft, paternal tenderness. “Just wanted to check on you.”

“Hey, Pat,” Virgil greeted, voice rough from yelling, crying, and an hours-long period of disuse. “I’m… doin’ a little better, I guess.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” Patton stepped further into the room, and perched on the very end of Virgil’s bed. “Can I get you anything?”

Virgil knew that if he didn’t let Patton get him something, he’d fidget the entire time and feel useless when he left, so he said, “Do you mind getting me some water?”

Patton smiled down at him. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

Virgil lightly smiled at his friend’s capacity for care.

He waited to gingerly take the glass, take a sip, and let the glass rest on his stomach with his hand to steady it for a beat.

“So… How are they out there?” Virgil asked tentatively, his thumb anxiously stuttering up and down the side of the glass.

Patton considered it, wondered how to word it correctly and inoffensively. “I think they’re still just wondering why you did it.”

“And so are you,” Virgil assumed.

“Well, I mean, I understand it. Thomas has been under a lot of stress lately…” Virgil knew his friend well enough to know he had to physically bite his tongue to keep from elaborating and sending Virgil back into a spiral. “I think they’re just wondering why you pulled the switch  _ now. _ Like… What broke the camel’s back? What made everything too much?”

Virgil disappointedly shrugged as best he could. “I don’t know, I just… Thomas was having a terrible day, nothing was going right, and it was suddenly like nothing was ever gonna go right again, and—“

Patton put a hand on his shin.

He hadn’t even really begun, and Patton knew to stop him, soothe him.

Sufficiently pacified, Virgil took a breath.

“We’ll find happiness again,” Patton assured him. “Like Logan said, ‘peaks and valleys,’ remember?”

“I remember,” Virgil said, nodding as best he could with how weak he still felt.

“Good. Keep remembering. And until things really get better, I’ll do whatever I can to see the best in everything.”

Virgil smiled up at the determined face of optimism that was Patton Sanders.

The embodiment of sunshine continued, “Hopefully, that’ll make your job a little bit easier. I know how much you don’t like to work.”

Virgil weakly snorted. “Ya got that right.” Beat. “Thanks… Dad.”

Patton’s eyes shined down at Virgil with warm, fatherly fondness, and maybe that was because they were misting over. “You got it, kiddo.”

For a soft moment, they sat there, Patton’s hand on Virgil’s shin, with Virgil’s tired eyes looking him over. He looked tired, too. Virgil wondered if he always looked like that under his smiley face, or if holding everything together after Virgil’s outburst had made him feel that way.

Patton made a sudden resigned sound in his throat. “I’m being summoned. You okay in here by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll be all right. Maybe I’ll—“ Virgil idly stretched as he thought up something to do. “—take a nap, or something.”

“All right.”

Virgil continued to watch Patton as the moral side stood up. “Thanks for checkin’ in, Pat.”

Sincerely, Patton responded, “Always, kiddo.”

With that, he sunk down, and Anxiety was alone once again. His smile was quick to fade once Patton was gone.

He’d helped, but it wasn’t enough. The loneliness had partnered with the silence now, and every emotion still felt too loud.

Virgil placed the glass on the floor, afraid of dropping it, and came back up in time to see Logan rise up.

“Hey,” Virgil hoarsely called.

“Hello,” Logan greeted purely out of convention.

Virgil took his tone as hostility. “You’re mad at me.”

“No, I am not. You, however, are jumping to conclusions.”

Virgil turned his gaze towards the ceiling. “As per usual,” he mumbled.  _ Resident screw-up. _

“I merely came in to see if you were following the chart,” Logan explained. “Or rather, what part in the process you were currently partaking in.”

Virgil languidly slid his gaze back to the flowchart as if he needed to, as if he hadn’t memorized it by now. “Meditiative rest.”

“Oh, good.” Logan took note of the glass on the floor. “And I see you’ve slipped into hydration and general self-care, as well.”

Virgil glanced over the side of the bed without moving, which was stupid, because he couldn’t see the glass without physically pulling himself up to look over the side. “Yeah, I’m kind of… oscillating between the two right now.”

“Ooh, good word,” Logan complimented.

“Yeah, sometimes I try.”

Silence.

“Are… Are you all right, Virgil?”

Virgil nodded against his pillow. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Virgil shifted on the bed. “Doesn’t matter.”

Another bout of hesitation centered on a searching gaze, wavering behind thick-rimmed Warby Parkers. “What can I do?”

Virgil’s eyes fell to Logan. He often forgot how earnest Logan could look, how wide and concerned his eyes could be. Even though he was quick to remind the others of how he was not tied to feelings inherently, Virgil didn't believe for a second that he simply went without them.

Virgil smirked. “Just offering to help at all is enough. Thank you.”

Logan sighed through his nose. “Of course.”

A glance around. “While I’m here,” Logan said. “Is there anything I can do to help in general? Is there something I can do to help avoid or manage Thomas’s stress that you don’t think I’m doing efficiently—?”

Virgil propped himself up on his elbows and put up a hand. “That’s my job, Lo. I pulled the switch today because he needed to let some of this out.” He stared pensively, guiltily beyond the floor.  _ “I  _ needed to let some of it out…” With pursed lips, Virgil’s gaze flicked back to Logan. “But my statement stands: Just checking in helps immensely. And you did today, as you do all the time, so… thanks for that.”

“No problem.” Logan’s eyes swept the room. “Well, if I am no longer needed here, then I suppose I will just… organize Thomas’s schedule.”

“You do that,” Virgil encouraged him, knowing that’s where he really wanted to be. It wasn’t a personal thing; Logan just wasn’t good around strong emotions, and Virgil was exactly that, especially today. The fact that he’d checked on Virgil was nice enough as it was, considering the fact he didn’t need to.

Logan pursed his lips in thought. “You know… Roman has a habit of sidetracking Thomas’s thoughts whenever I go to make a plan, lately more than ever, it seems. Do you think you’ll feel well enough to help me manage him later?”

Virgil puffed a half-laugh. “I think so,” he told him, confidently.

“Excellent. I will see you then.” With that, Logan sunk out.

“Later,” Virgil called after him.

Once more, Anxiety was alone.

He did feel better by this point. His loneliness was a dull ache that sat like a patient demon inside his chest, next to the subsiding pains from earlier. After both Patton and Logan had told him that they didn’t resent Virgil for sounding the alarm, his recovery from the ordeal went much more smoothly. He felt okay enough to sleep the residuals off, actually.

Virgil shifted onto his side, situated his arm under the pillow, and shut his eyes.

He was abruptly snapped from dozing when he heard his door creak open. He dragged an eye open, and trudged further into wakefulness at the sight of Roman, who was silently pleading with the floorboards for some kind of arrangement where they could swallow him, swallow him  _ now _ .

“What do you need, Princey?” Virgil mumbled without malice.

Roman tried to wave him off. “You’re busy, it’s fine.”

“No. What?” Virgil insisted.

“I just… wanted to see what was happening from earlier. Now I see you’re fine, so…”

“Actually—“ Virgil mumbled, eyes screwed shut once more, because he could not bear to look at Roman as he said it. “... What if I wasn't?”

He wasn’t, still. The other two had given him enough,  _ enough,  _ but that didn’t mean he was okay, let alone good. He didn’t ever want to feel that patient demon sitting in his chest, dragging its nails through his veins to unsettle him, and on bad days—like today—make him cry, or scream. He wanted to make sure it was gone, banished for a while, at least, and… Roman was the best out of all of them at slaying beasts. Also, for what it was worth, he was anything but busy.

Virgil could feel Roman staring at him, but he kept his eyes firmly closed. The last thing he wanted to see was his worry over Virgil still not being okay.

“Do you want company?”

Roman’s quiet, sincere voice rang loudly in the room. Virgil wondered if he felt lonelier when Roman showed up, or if the others just hadn’t done as much as he thought.

“Sure, but I’m not moving.”

It took a few moments, but suddenly, Virgil felt the bed sink a little near his feet, and heard the box springs creak beneath Roman’s weight as he climbed up next to Virgil.

Roman settled on his back behind him, feet crossed at the ankles. With his eyes closed, Virgil pictured him there, fingers laced together on his stomach as he stared at the ceiling.

Roman didn’t try to touch him. He didn’t try to talk to him, or get him to talk. He didn’t do anything. He just laid there and thought, minding his own business, which was very unlike him. Virgil turned over the other’s behavior in his head, trying to see a hint of Deceit in any of his movements, but he dismissed it. Only Roman would look that insecure when he thought no one was looking. Deceit didn’t have an introspective, self-critical voice in his head, not like that.

Once he determined it was really his friend behind him, Virgil was eased by him. Having Roman’s unconditional presence behind him then was like finally being able to take a breath at home after a busy day. Their breaths steadily fell into a synced rhythm, and Virgil yawned.

Despite his tiredness, he wandered for a while in his thoughts.

Sometimes, when Virgil was left alone, it was easy to feel like nothing more than Anxiety, than a problem, than a base instinct that often overreacted. But with his friends around him—all these warm, caring people surrounding him with exactly what he needed—he couldn’t help but start to feel like a person again. He couldn’t help but allow a few comforting notions to slip through the cracks in his usually well-maintained defenses. Sure, things were never perfect, and they were never going to be perfect enough to where he could say that absolutely  _ everything _ was fine, but right now… Right now was enough. Right now held calm. Right here was exactly where he needed to be.

He was okay. More importantly, Thomas was okay.

…

Virgil didn’t remember dozing off, but apparently, he actually slept. He shifted, feeling the bed dip a little beside him as well.

Surprised, he glanced over his shoulder.

“What’re you still doing here?” Virgil asked with a gravelly sleep-voice as he stretched his arms above his head.

Roman glanced up at him reflexively before watching his own hand play with Virgil’s weighted blankets. When he did speak, it was in the tiniest whisper, “I wanted to make sure you had good dreams…”

Virgil stared at him with an open mouth. How was Anxiety supposed to respond to something so, so…  _ sweet? _

Eventually he landed on a simple, “Thanks.” It felt insufficient, but he couldn’t think of anything better.

The prince gave him a satisfied smile. “No problem.”

He struggled a bit getting off the bed, and Virgil didn’t try too terribly hard to hide his chuckles. Roman irritatedly told him to shut up, but there wasn’t any genuine heat behind it. Virgil thought he might have even caught him smiling in his periphery once the creative side finally managed to slide off the foot of the bed.

“‘You feeling better?” Roman asked.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, I… I think I’m good. For now, at least.”

“Good. Now with that, I must take my leave,” Roman announced with his patented princely pose.

He began to sink out, but before he could, he popped back up. “Oh, and um…”

Virgil perked up lazily, still half-asleep.

“I was thinking of giving Thomas the idea to dye his hair back to purple… Would that be something you’re… interested in?”

Virgil sat up and shifted so he sat on the edge of his bed. “I wouldn’t mind if he changed his hair back to purple. But just because you give him the idea doesn’t mean he’s gonna do it.”

“No. But would you like for me to valiantly try?” Roman pressed, a determined set to his facial features.

Virgil puffed a heartier laugh than earlier.

“Would that make you happy?”

With the question came the realization that he had already known, but never expressly articulated: Roman was trying to make him happy.

A twitchy smile emerged on Virgil’s face. “Yeah. Yeah, Princey, it would.”

“Very well.” Once again, he struck his pose. “I will insist.”

With that he sunk down, and Virgil called after him, “Good luck with that.”

Virgil smiled as he sat alone this time.

He glanced around, idly scanning his possessions.

His eyes met the intercom system in the corner of his room, the thing he used to communicate with Thomas on a normal day when they weren’t making a video.

He side-eyed his bed, thought for a moment, then stood and strode over.

His slender finger pushed the button, and he leaned in to speak clearly into the microphone.

“Thomas, why don’t you drink some water, eh? I don’t think you’ve had enough today. Maybe take a shower, while you’re at it. It might clear your head.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, be sure to drop a comment or some kudos! Have a lovely day.


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